As we enter into our summer
lectionary readings we begin with a topic that might make some of you
uncomfortable. It’s all about praise!
I can hear you thinking: Oh now, pastor, can we have just a little
more time with all that judgment stuff, please? Obviously, that makes us
uncomfortable, too, but at least when you talk about judgment we aren’t worried
that you’re going to force us to do something we don’t want to do!
Praise is a scary word. It’s scary,
because it brings to mind other scary things like dancing and singing. We don’t
dance much in public anymore, you might have noticed. It wasn’t that long ago
that school dances involved dancing. It also wasn’t that long ago that communal
singing was a thing that happened all the time. Nowadays, it’s pretty much
reserved for church and the occasional odd sporting event, which is really cool
when it happens, by the way. I will always remember the late-September 2008
Twins series sweep of the White Sox when the Metrodome corridors were packed
with fans shouting Glory, Glory,
Hallelujah. We know how to praise. We mostly just don’t want to.
But it doesn’t have to be this way. In many places in the
world today, dancing, and singing, and communal praise are essential to worship.
In 2006, I went on a trip to Tanzania with the Augustana Choir. One Sunday after
worship in a village outside of Iringa, a half dozen local choirs joined us on
the back lawn of the church to sing for one another. But it wasn’t just singing—it
was dancing and jumping. It was praising. Every one of those groups came
dressed for the occasion and ready to move it, clad in long-flowing robes or
traditional Masai black-and-red laden with jewelry. They knew who they were,
and they were there to do praise.
Our music was meaningful but different. This Lutheran
tradition of stoicism is a heritage of ours that has some real strengths. We
tend to be humble; we tend to value meekness; and we tend to do what we do well.
But, man, do we struggle with praise! So, we say “Praise the Lord! Praise, O servants
of the Lord;
praise the name of the Lord”
from Psalm 113, but we say it meekly. We say it uniformly. We don’t want to
stick out. And if the pastor (or anybody else) tries to get us to do
differently, watch out!
So much of this comes from a good
place—really, it does! We see the people who make a show of their praise—who raise
up their hands not out of genuine worship but to demonstrate their faithfulness
to others, or to fit in themselves. We see the auditoriums and the stadiums
full of worshipers who are mimicking the actions of others, and we find that at
best inauthentic and at worst showy or boastful. But just because we see the hypocrisy
of others doesn’t mean we have our house in order.
In the book of Revelation there’s a
scene of the final worship around the throne where all the throngs of people
are gathered together to praise with dancing and shouting and singing. This is
not just a thing God expects; it is our destiny to be people of praise. This
seems like a thing that shouldn’t have to be said, but praise is not a bad
thing!
The problem is that these signs of
praise, whether clapping, or dancing, or shouting out, have become antithetical
to our identity, so when we are told to do praise, it feels a little like a
hostage situation. If I told you right now, “Stand up and start dancing!” I
don’t think you’d do it out of the joy of the Lord. If you did it at all, it
would be to get it over with so I stopped asking you to do uncomfortable
things.
It seems to me that our praise should
start by giving thanks to God in the way that is most authentic to us. I mean,
at some churches, smiling is seen as a little too joyful. In these places,
worship is such a solemn duty that anything resembling praise is shown the door.
I don’t think we’re quite that way, either. The question is what does it look
like to let go of our stoicism just enough to embrace the freedom of the Gospel
of Jesus Christ.
I have a practical example that
you’ve all experienced. Natalie loves to dance and sing. Shocker, I know. If music comes on, she can’t help but move to it.
When she’s doing that at home, there are no rules. Well, there are rules, but
they’re mostly just: Don’t break things.
But when she’s at church, we have this conversation with her just about
every week. You want to dance? Great! But you don’t bow, and you don’t look out
at the congregation for approval, because when you dance at church, you dance
for God—not for other people’s approval and certainly not to boast in how you
good you are.
That’s really the criteria I think
we should use generally for our praise. Who are we doing it for—for God or for ourselves?
It’s basically the same criteria for eulogies at funerals. You can tell in the
first fifteen seconds whether a person is telling a story about the person who
died, which is good, or if they are using the person who died to tell a story
about themselves. Praise is like that, because it isn’t about you.
That means you don’t have to praise
in the way that others expect of you. Nobody gets to make praise into a law you
have to do, much less that you have to do it in a certain way. Praise is
authentic and personal; it doesn’t require you to live up to anybody else’s
expectations. At the same time, praise is a natural response to Gospel. There
is no wrong way to do it when it is meaningful to you, and you don’t have to do anything, but should you do
it?
Well…
There are countless examples of
praise in scripture, but maybe none are as poignant as King David, dancing his
way through the whole city of Jerusalem before the Ark of the Covenant. If a
king can do it with all the pretension of royalty, then who are we?
At the end of the day, authentic
praise is a humble activity. It’s not about us. It shouldn’t be done to make me
(or anybody else) happy. It should happen because of what God has done for us. It’s
about showing our gratitude to God. Sure, it’s hard to tease out everybody’s
motivations. Many people may be like those who Jesus lambasts for doing wild,
showy prayers on street corners, but that doesn’t mean we’re excused from it.
Just because other people are hypocrites doesn’t mean we are exempt from
examining ourselves as well.
Praise is part of what it means to
be Christians. It is essential to worship. It is—even—particularly Lutheran.
So, here we are. Praise! Praise the Lord! And if you want to dance, dance. And
if you want to sing, sing. And if you want to scowl in the corner, scowl in the
corner. But do it for God. Do it all for God. Let the grace of God, free you to
be you. And, at the end of the day, let it be a reminder that the only one
worthy of worship is God, and that is a reason to give praise.
No comments:
Post a Comment